The Unforseen Unraveling
by BellaMalfoy
Summary: The Baudelaire orphans are beginning to question the noblest of people, even themselves. Could fleeing with Olaf really have been the best thing for them?
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I don't own A Series of Unfortunate Events or anything therein. No profit was made, etc. etc. etc. 

Author's Notes: This story takes place after The Penultimate Peril (book 12). It will change it's rating in later chapters and will eventually be Violaf.

**Chapter One**

When something is on your mind, be it an upcoming birthday party at which you know your most hated enemy will be attending, an inevitable and menacing encounter with the bloodthirsty Duke of Spain which may result in your untimely demise, or sipping tea from a teacup under which has a message possibly bearing bad news taped to the underside of your saucer, it is oftentimes difficult to think of anything else. Anyone who has read anything about the Baudelaire children's lives know that there were many things that occupied their minds and left them struggling to push these thoughts from their brains. Of course, if you have not read anything about them, then you are indeed a happy and most likely well adjusted person and at this point I would like to encourage you to put this book down and seek out other things with which to entertain yourself. This book chronicles the unfortunate events that the Baudelaire children continued to find themselves in, and I am quite sorry to say that it is as far from entertaining as the Duke of Spain showing up at your birthday party, delivering you a teacup with a terrible message taped to its underside and then challenging you to a swordfight which may leave you deceased.

Violet Baudelaire sat in the stuffy room she had once shared with her siblings, and was coincidentally now sharing again, in the house of Count Olaf. Though I wish I could write that she had an upcoming encounter with the bloodthirsty terrible news delivering duke on her mind, I cannot. She was, in fact, sitting on the old, shabby mattress pensively – a term here which means "thinking long, hard, and becoming increasingly troubled by things concerning the recent events that had developed around themselves and Count Olaf." The eldest Baudelaire frowned as she sat contemplating their situation while Klaus, the middle Baudelaire, paced the floor. From the floor, Sunny Baudelaire, the youngest, let out a long sigh.

"Maybe going with him wasn't such a good idea." Klaus appraised.

"Déjà vu!" Sunny said which meant something along the lines of "we're back in the same place we started, which is both ironic and slightly confusing."

Violet remained quiet. Her mind was filled with thoughts of what she and her siblings had said to Count Olaf before their departure from Hotel Denouement. Why should they continue to resist helping him when all the adults who had been charged with their care and welfare had failed them? The more Violet pondered this, and dreaded coming to a formal conclusion on the matter, the more she knew that there was one clear fact. Whether she wanted to admit it or not, aside from Uncle Monty, the herpetologist, Olaf had taken the best care of the three Baudelaires. Aunt Josephine had been quick to turn her back on the children in the face of danger. Sir had never been a responsible caretaker, and Charles did not seem to have the courage to disagree with him. Vice Principal Nero's only concern was mocking everyone within an earshot and proclaiming himself to be a musical genius. Esmé had, of course, joined forces with Count Olaf while Jerome stood timidly by. The village of VFD had made the Baudelaires their slaves with Hector being far too skittish to argue. Ever since then they had been on the run, having had the Daily Punctilio print story after story of their alleged treachery and wrong doings. Every good person had failed them so spectacularly that Violet could not help thinking these things, and most especially thinking that perhaps there was no need to fight it any longer. She resigned herself – a phrase which means that she "surrendered, acknowledged, and even agreed" – to all the thoughts floating around in her head.

"Maybe going with him was." Violet returned.

Klaus's brows furrowed behind his glasses as he sat, puzzled by his sister's reply. "What do you mean?" He asked.

The eldest Baudelaire sighed. "Like we told Olaf, why shouldn't we help him? Everyone else has failed us."

"I thought you were just saying that as a way to get us out of that hotel." Klaus said. "I didn't know that you actually meant what you told him."

"Scheme?" Sunny asked, meaning here, "this wasn't apart of a bigger plan to help us escape from Count Olaf's clutches once more?"

Violet shook her head. "How noble are people who don't have the courage to stand up and actually be noble and fight for what's right?" She wondered aloud. "Everyone has said they were trying to help us but how many of them actually did?"

Klaus swallowed, knowing that the answer was, of course, no one.

"And I'm beginning to think that both sides of this schism are just as wrong as the other." Violet explained further. "Olaf and his associates burning things down, Kit Snicket and our parents with poison darts, Gregor Anwhistle and the Medusoid Mycelium," she listed. "Not to mention everything we did."

"Accidents," Sunny reminded.

"Yes." Violet agreed softly. "But it just seems that no one is right here. And it makes me wonder just what reasons Olaf has for doing what he does. It almost seemed as if he had no other choice. Remember what he said about not having a choice?"

Klaus blanched. "Since when have we listened to Olaf?"

"Maybe we should start." Violet returned. "No, listen," she insisted, seeing her brother's eyes grow dark as he stared at her in shock and incomprehension. "No one has given us any answers yet. We've just been presented with mystery after mystery. Perhaps we should really listen and try to understand. Maybe there's more to his prerogative than we thought."

"Or maybe he's just a drunk, greedy murderer." Klaus returned with a slight scowl. His face softened after a moment. "Violet, I'm sorry. I want to believe you. But I can't get past everything that Olaf has tried to do to us. He's tried to steal our money, marry you, kidnap us, and—"

Violet nodded, cutting him off. "I know, Klaus. But maybe we've got to try. Maybe that's the only way we'll solve any of this and be able to finally live in peace and quiet."

"The world is quiet here." Sunny quoted thoughtfully, causing her other two siblings to solemnly fall into silence – a phrase here which means "all three children did not speak any more about VFD mysteries or Olaf and instead sat and pondered quietly all which was on their minds." It would please me to write that all three children were able to think of far more pleasant things such as ponies or candies or bloodthirsty terrible news delivering dukes, but I cannot. The Baudelaire children spent the rest of the afternoon pensive and silent, thinking and watching the sky melt from blue to orange and red through the grimy windows of their room until a loud bellowing issued from downstairs.

"Orphans!"

Violet jumped at the sound of Count Olaf's voice summoning them downstairs. Sunny gulped and anxiously took hold of Klaus's hand. They descended the stairs together, grateful that they had only a short distance to go rather than endless flights like they endured at 667 Dark Avenue. The children found Olaf at the kitchen table, pouring himself some wine as the glass rested on the wood surface without a coaster. As they approached him, he gestured grandly at the empty chairs, motioning for them to sit while he stood. Taking a drink, Olaf smirked.

"Celebratory drink, anyone?" He asked with a wheezy chuckle. When no one answered him, as well they should not have being underage, Olaf smirk deepened. "Just me, then," said the count aloud.

"What are we celebrating?" Violet asked, casting a glance towards Klaus who had a skeptical look on his face – a term which means "looking as if he did not believe his sister about Olaf's reasons for being such a treacherous villain at all."

"Why, your return, of course." Olaf returned with a long, toothy smile. "And why not celebrate the downfall of many of my opponents at the same time? To us," He exclaimed, raising his glass in the air, as his shiny, shiny eyes shone brightly.

The phrase "kill two birds with one stone" does not actually mean murdering two birds with a small rock which is, for the most part, physically impossible unless the weather is good, the trajectory is excellent, and the sun is not in a person's eyes. It in fact means fulfilling two purposes with one act and it is used here to describe the count's toast.

Each Baudelaire exchanged miserable looks with one another as they remembered how they had willingly helped set fire to the Hotel Denouement. They were not likely to know just who they had and had not managed to save until the Daily Punctilio was released early the next morning. However, even then the children were not sure of the paper's accuracy or even that they would be anywhere near a copy.

"It's about time for dinner, don't you think?" Olaf asked as he finished his wine and placed the empty glass on the table. "I'm sure I don't have to remind you about your chores."

Klaus's face was as dark as it had been upstairs when Violet had spoken to him about the questions she had regarding Count Olaf. The middle Baudelaire rose and took Sunny's hand in his silently making his way towards the kitchen. As Violet sighed, she joined her siblings and felt her stomach twist inside her. Maybe Klaus had been right after all. Violet dreaded that she would not be any closer to an answer than she had been earlier, as lately seemed to be the case, and would undoubtedly spend the entire night sleepless and pondering the things that were on her mind.


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: I don't own A Series of Unfortunate Events or anything therein. No profit was made, etc. etc. etc. 

**Chapter Two**

The primary function of a newspaper is to inform the general public with correct, updated information which details the happenings of the world with simple, precise, and for the most part easy to understand prose. Newspapers usually contain a front page which includes major happenings, local events, and far too much politics for its own good. Subsequent sections that follow are sure to include things such as movie listings, anonymous advice from people who seem to think they are wise and insightful, weather forecasts, and critiques, called editorials, which are supposed to represent the personal standpoint of the writer but quite actually turn out to be grounds for job termination. Those who are in charge of publishing the newspaper should check the validity of the information they put into print rather than unfairly dismissing a critique writer who was merely expressing his personal opinion as his job title had warranted.

Unfortunately, the Daily Punctilio was not a valid and highly reliable source for news, let alone critiques and editorials. The Baudelaire children had known this ever since the paper had printed an incorrect and highly damaging article about them – though they were listed as Veronica, Susan, and Klyde – and their involvement with the murder of Count Olaf, who had been printed as "Count Omar" and who in reality had really been Jacques Snicket. Though the newspaper had caused a great deal of damage to them, the Baudelaires waited for the newest edition of the Daily Punctilio with baited breath – a phrase here which means "eagerly and anxiously" rather than "with their breath smelling of worms in an attempt to catch fish." Their consciences would not let them rest until they knew just who had escaped with their lives and who had not been so fortunate.

"How are we going to get a newspaper?" Violet asked with a frown. She and her siblings were readying themselves for their first day of chores in the small, meager room they all shared. Though all three of them were not looking forward to receiving long lists of chores from Olaf once again, they were far more concerned with finding out details of the Hotel Denouement fire.

Klaus sighed. "I don't think Olaf subscribes to the Daily Punctilio." He replied, trying his hardest to remember if there was ever a time he had stumbled across a copy of the publication during their first stay with the count. "How can we get our hands on a copy?" asked the middle Baudelaire aloud.

Sunny yawned sleepily from where she stood by the window. "Thieve." She said, looking over her shoulder at her siblings.

"Yes, Olaf is a thief." Klaus agreed. "But that doesn't help us figure out how to find a newspaper."

Violet took a step forward and pointed out the window. "No, look! Olaf's sneaking over into Justice Strauss' yard and taking her newspaper!"

There was a long moment where none of the Baudelaires said anything. Instead they watched as Olaf walked next door, looking both ways just before setting foot in the justice's yard and pilfering the newspaper – a term here which means "taking the highly incorrect publication in his greedy hands and sneaking back into his house carefully so as not to be observed taking something that did not belong to him."

"If Olaf's bringing it back here to read it, then that means it'll be here somewhere in the house. Do you think we could manage to sneak a look at it somehow?" Klaus wondered.

"I'm sure that we could." Violet nodded. "If we go downstairs and split up to do our chores, we could make sure that at least one of us is around Olaf. When he puts the newspaper down and walks away, one of us can put the article in our pocket." She suggested.

"Headlines?" Sunny asked, meaning, "How will we know which pages we need to take out?"

Violet smiled. "The fire was so big it's bound to be on the front page."

"There's an obituary section towards the back of the paper, usually. But the names may be included in the article itself." Klaus added. "We should just focus on getting the front page. That's the most important thing."

"How are we going to split up?" asked Violet. "Olaf always gives us chores do to all over the house." The eldest Baudelaire remembered back to when Olaf had presented them with lists of chores which ranged from simple requests such as washing dishes and sweeping the floors to preparing dinner. However, when you are fifteen years old and younger, none of those tasks are relatively easy ones and not even one is pleasant to look forward to doing, let alone an entire list full of them.

Klaus thought silently for a moment. "I think that Sunny should work in the kitchen. She's a good cook and can take her time washing whatever dishes he has stacked up in the sink." He pointed out, expecting that every dish the count owned was dirty and resting in the kitchen sink. "If Olaf comes to get more wine and reads the newspaper there, she can rip out the front page when he leaves."

"A la mode!" Sunny exclaimed which meant, "Leave it to me to carry out this important plan!"

Violet sighed. "The rest of the chores are usually scattered on the first and second floors." She recalled with a frown.

"I'll take the bottom floor and you can be responsible for the top." Klaus suggested. "It's a lot of work but at least that way one of us will be close to Olaf."

Though she did not like the idea of having to complete chores on an entire floor by herself, Violet agreed. "I think that once we get to read the Daily Punctilio's article, our minds will be more at ease." She said, sounding slightly unsure.

There is a widely overused and terribly unhelpful phrase that I am sad to say fits this particular situation. The saying "ignorance is bliss" suggests that not knowing certain information will put a person's mind at ease. However, this phrase proves to be wrong on two accounts. The first being, the Baudelaire children did not have minds that were at ease because of their ignorance concerning the article that filled the entire front page that day. In fact, they were preoccupied with the events of the Hotel Denouement fire and felt a dreadful anxiousness about not knowing what had happened. Secondly, I must say that the Baudelaires did not feel any more at ease after reading the Daily Punctilio than they did before reading it. I am sorry to write that, if anything, they felt more anxious and preoccupied after reading the article. Either way, both situations would not be described as blissful, though one might be arguably slightly more pleasant than the other.

Count Olaf was just shutting the door behind him by the time the Baudelaire children descended the stairs. He grinned toothily at them, folding up the newspaper and tucking it under his arm. "Good morning, orphans." The count greeted. "Breakfast is on the table. I don't think I need to mention that I won't be doing the dishes after you're finished."

The children followed Count Olaf to the kitchen table which held four large bowls of oatmeal. All three of the Baudelaires swallowed as they saw fresh raspberries neatly arranged on top of each meal. The last time the count's kindness – if such treacherous villains could be said to have something resembling kindness in their characters – had extended this far he had been hatching a scheme to marry Violet and secure the children's inheritance.

"Well? Sit down." Olaf encouraged, setting his folded newspaper down on the table and taking his seat. The three Baudelaires followed his lead. "Would you like me to show you that your oatmeal hasn't been poisoned once again?" He reached over, plucked a raspberry from Violet's bowl, and popped it into his mouth. "I thought you orphans would've learned by now that I wouldn't poison you."

The phrase "not all of us" sounded in Klaus's head but he did not say so. All of the children stared curiously into their bowls, wondering in silence just what Olaf had in store for them.

"Hurry and eat before it gets cold. If it sits too long, it'll stick to the bowls and you'll spend all day trying to scrape it off." Olaf warned as the three children hesitantly lifted their spoons and took a bite. "You don't have time to waste scrubbing oatmeal. You have a lengthy list of chores waiting for you." The count announced, placing a long rolled up piece of paper on the table. Then, he unfolded the newspaper noisily and began to shuffle through its pages.

Violet, Klaus, and Sunny felt their first bite of breakfast shifting around in their stomachs. However, this was not due to the fact that the count had just affirmed they would be performing a list of chores that would undoubtedly take them all day to finish. Their stomachs turned at the sight of the Daily Punctilio rustling in front of them. For a brief moment their eyes caught sight of the headline "Hotel Denouement – Fiery Inferno of Doom" with a large picture of the building engulfed in a curtain of flames and smoke underneath it. Unfortunately for the Baudelaires, they were all seated too far away from Olaf to read any part of the article nor were they quick enough to catch anything past the headline. The count settled on the editorial section, now one of the most biased and unpleasant sections of the Daily Punctilio, folding the front page back so that it was hidden from view. While he read, Olaf ate his portion of oatmeal.

When at last he had finished, the count rose from the kitchen table, abandoning his empty bowl while he walked, reading the unimportant mass of words with rapt attention – a word here which means "reading the words and not looking where he was walking which made anyone who saw him wonder just how Count Olaf managed to walk all the way upstairs without once taking his eyes off the newspaper." The children finished their meal in silence.

"It looks like you'll be the closest one to him, Violet." Klaus said once everyone was finished as he gathered all of the breakfast dishes and placed them on the counter. He reorganized the sink and filled it with soapy water, helping Sunny submerge the oatmeal covered bowls before they had a chance to stick.

Violet nodded, reviewing the list of chores thoughtfully. "Are you two going to be alright down here?" She asked.

"Yes." Klaus affirmed. "I'll be able to do the work and help Sunny if she needs."

Sunny shook her head. "Stepstool," she returned, which meant something like, "I can stand on this chair and do the dishes fine without any help, but thank you very much for the offer."

Reaching into a cabinet, Violet removed the cleaning supplies she would need. "He wants us to wash the windows and sweep the floors. I'll take this and do the upstairs windows while you sweep, then we can switch." She said.

"Good idea." Klaus agreed, drying off his hands and retrieving the broom. "And good luck."

"Thanks." Violet smiled turning to leave. She ascended the stairs, cleaning supplies in hand. Nervously she approached the room where the Baudelaires had seen Olaf disappear into. As she turned the knob she could see him, seated on an old, broken down couch, newspaper still in his hands. Without a word, she went to work on the windows.

The count did not look up from his paper. "You think it's more efficient to split up, do you?" Olaf said aloud with a smirk.

Violet turned her back on him and began running her cloth over the surface of the glass. She could hear another rustling of paper which settled and gave way to the broken and debatably intentional half-mutterings of Count Olaf.

"You've made the newspaper for the last time." He chuckled. "And you, though I doubt you could even read a newspaper. And you, you cad!" Olaf wheezed softly to himself. "How unlucky for you to have been there! And look what they've said about you!" There was a long, silent pause where all Violet could hear was a long, raspy wheezing. "Oh," he said, "I didn't know they were still in there."

The rustling of papers filled the air once more, but as Violet glanced over his shoulder, she could see that the newspaper had fallen to the ground as Olaf sat, his long fingers pressed to his eyes, as if shielding him from some unwanted news he had just discovered. However, whether the count was dismayed or relieved about what he had read, the eldest Baudelaire was not sure. All she knew was how hot the lump in her throat was the moment she took a few brave steps forward and laid eyes on what immediately followed the headline declaring the hotel an inferno of doom.

Newspapers should endeavor to check the accuracy of their stories. However, as I have said before, the Daily Punctilio is more concerned with dismissing hard working employees from their jobs rather than supplying the general public with factual information. I am very sorry to say that this article was no exception to the newspaper's blatant inaccuracy. The article's headline read, "Hotel Denouement – Fiery Inferno of Doom – why did High Court Justice Strauss turn this gathering place into a death trap?"


	3. Chapter 3

Disclaimer: I don't own A Series of Unfortunate Events or anything therein. No profit was made, etc. etc. etc. 

**Chapter Three**

If you spoke to any professional trained in the field of psychology, they would agree that the human mind is something far too complex to be completely broken down, explained, and written down in anything less than a book so large it eclipses the telephone book many times over. However, a professional carrying around a book weighing far more than the person who was reading from it is hardly practical. It is also incredibly impossible to completely understand the inner workings of the human brain by mere observation. Even the best psychoanalysts find it difficult to decipher the exact meaning of a reoccurring dream I have that focuses around an abandoned root beer bottle.

Violet Baudelaire, having no formal training in psychology and possessing no telephone book eclipsing manuals, was perplexed by the behavior of Count Olaf. She had half expected him to hoot and holler – a phrase here which means, "express his satisfaction and amusement with a triumphant shout or noise making" – about the events described in the Daily Punctilio's highly erroneous article. However, the count seemed to be the exact opposite. He sat on the couch unmoving and virtually unblinking, shoulders slumped forward, shiny eyes misty, looking the very picture of melancholy – a term here which means, "incredibly depressed and practically moved to tears."

Taking a slow, wary step forward, Violet continued to stare at Count Olaf, not quite sure he was seeing her at all anymore. His focus seemed to be on the floorboards, though not on any particular dust bunny or dark stain. He made no noise but his hand appeared to be shaking slightly. She was afraid of walking too fast, in case the wood beneath her creaked and startled him out of whatever thoughts he seemed to be lost in. Violet remained, simply breathing for a moment as she thought of what to do next. It was slightly unnerving to be so close to the villain without him sneering or being otherwise unpleasant with her. Bravely, she took another step forward, even more surprised at what she saw.

Count Olaf's eyes were far shiner than they had ever been previously due to the fact that tears were forming in his eyes. He sat, hand trembling, lip quivering so slightly that if Violet had blinked, she would have missed it. As a tear fell from his eyes, rolling down his cheek silently, Violet felt shaken to the core – a term here which means, "surprised and stunned that she was witnessing such raw emotion in the seemingly emotionless villain." He had always been intimidating and terrifyingly cruel, and now the eldest Baudelaire was at a loss as to what to do next. Ignoring him and going back to her chores seemed wildly inappropriate to the compassionate girl. Comforting him also seemed a bit strange. After a long moment of indecision, Violet knelt on the floor in front of him, looking up at him with a curious sadness reflected in her eyes. Against her better judgment, she reached her hand out, placing it on his knee as a gesture of comfort. Never in her wildest dreams had she expected to be offering comfort to the villainous count.

At her touch, Olaf's long eyebrow jumped, his tear-filled eyes falling upon her. He gave a weak smirk, laughing in a low, wheezy chuckle. There are times when laughter is appropriate and very much encouraged. Laughter is acceptable if you happen to be listening to a stand up comedian, if they are exceptionally humorous. It is also appropriate to laugh at jesters, circus clowns (though this is highly debatable), romantic comedies, and animals that chase their tails endlessly. However, laughing after a tragedy, especially one involving death, is not particularly appropriate. This does not stop many people from engaging in this behavior, though. As any psychology student will tell you as they flip through their enormous and cryptically written text book which weighs more than a two ton elephant, laughter often occurs when a person does not know how to react to the terrible events that have just taken place.

"They didn't make it out." Count Olaf wheezed softly, still chuckling as a few more tears splashed down his cheeks. "I did it." He added, looking down at his hands, a note of horrific amusement in his voice. "That's all it took."

Violet looked at the count with confusion. "Count Olaf?" She asked softly. As the count looked at her with teary brown eyes, the eldest Baudelaire fell again silent, not knowing what to make of the man anymore. Villains didn't cry, they didn't have remorse – a term here which means, "an enormous and overarching feeling of terrible guilt regarding all of the villainous things he had done in the past." It had been increasingly difficult for Violet to label Count Olaf as a villain after he had expressed to her and her siblings such a helplessness regarding his actions, as if he had not been the one behind the treachery. After the three Baudelaire orphans had also committed terrible acts of indiscretion, between the fires, the hiding, the lies, the stealing, the line between villains and those who were noble had been blurred. All of the "noble" people had failed Violet and her siblings. The eldest Baudelaire found herself asking time and again just what the difference was between good and bad. She couldn't help but remember what Fernald, the Hook-Handed Man, had said. People were like chef's salads, with good and bad mixed together.

"It's over now." Olaf wheezed after a long, thoughtful moment. He looked at Violet, letting out a low, strained chuckle. "It's time to end this all." Added the count, suddenly looking extremely exhausted, as if the weight of the world had finally been lifted off his shoulders and he was just now reminded of how much energy he had exerted in carrying it the entire time. Count Olaf closed his eyes, shoulders shaking as he began to weep. Violet was not sure whether he was crying because he was filled with sorrow, which did not seem to match the situation very well, as he had been laughing between his tears, or if it was out of relief. Though, the eldest Baudelaire was confused as to just exactly what Olaf could be relieved about. She had expected him to be happy that the entire affair was drawing to a close. However, she had not expected him to laugh while he had been crying, either.

Violet felt lost, not knowing whether to let him cry in peace – a phrase here meaning, "let Count Olaf cry privately without her watching while she went in search of her siblings" – or stay, silent and unmoving, a comforting hand still placed softly on his knee. She was about to rise, giving him the dignity of weeping without her as an audience, when Count Olaf reached down, placing his large hand atop hers. He squeezed her fingertips softly, almost as if to thank Violet for her compassionate gesture, but was too choked by his tears to say anything. They remained for quite some time, he on the couch, hunched over and weeping, she kneeling on the floor, hand in hand with the man she had once considered to be a villain. After the count had composed himself enough to speak through the hot lump in his throat, he looked at Violet, eyes red and puffy, though no less shiny than they had been.

"Take that away." Count Olaf instructed, gesturing toward the newspaper that had fallen to the ground. "I don't want it in my sight." He added, looking as if the Daily Punctilio would make him violently ill by being in his presence any longer.

Taking the papers in her hands, Violet folded the newspaper as quickly as she could. Looking back, she cast a glance at the wall, her unfinished cleaning work apparent by the streaks on the window's glass.

"Your chores are done for now." Count Olaf wheezed, clearing his throat. He wiped away his tears quickly with the back of his hand, suddenly embarrassed that they were there.

Violet put the paper underneath her arm as she backed out of the room and closed the door behind her. She stood in the hall silently for some time, trying her best to process what had just transpired – a phrase here which means "understand and comprehend with her analytical mind everything that had gone on concerning Count Olaf and his sudden emotional display." After a long, pensive moment, Violet descended the stairs. Walking through the house, she found Klaus assisting Sunny in the kitchen. Still dumbstruck from her encounter with Olaf – a term here which means, "bewildered and surprised that the man she had thought at one time to be a villain had openly wept in front of her" – Violet laid the paper down on the kitchen counter, taking a seat at the table, almost numbly.

"Violet?" Klaus asked softly, walking over to her, concerned. "What happened?"

"Punishment?" Sunny said, which meant something along the lines of, "you didn't get in trouble because Count Olaf discovered you stealing his newspaper, did you?" She joined her brother and sister at the table, head tilted to the side as she stared at Violet.

"No," Violet returned, shaking her head, "he gave it to me. It's okay."

Klaus took a moment to get over the surprise he felt upon hearing that Olaf had so willingly relinquished his paper – a term here meaning, "voluntarily given Violet the Daily Punctilio without getting angry or hassling her." Shaking his head, he sighed. "You look like you've seen a ghost."

"We can't talk here." Violet said softly, looking at Sunny and Klaus. The phrase "the walls have ears" is a highly used cliché that people say when they refer to the fact that they run the risk of being overheard by someone, whether the spying comes from an enemy, a Federal agency, or a seal trained in the art of Morse code. In this situation, Violet was worried that Count Olaf would overhear them speaking to one another and become angry, especially if he discovered her speaking of his behavior. "Our chores are done, let's go." She insisted, not wanting to go into things any further until the three of them were upstairs speaking amongst each other in low, hushed whispers. Picking up the newspaper, she motioned for her siblings to join her.

Violet led the way up stairs to the Baudelaire orphan's bedroom, Klaus and Sunny following behind, exchanging looks of confusion and concern the entire way. Upon shutting the door of their room, Klaus and Sunny huddled around Violet who had taken a seat on the broken-down old mattress.

"What happened?" Klaus asked.

Pressing a finger to her lips, she urged her brother to speak in a whisper. "He's upstairs, he might walk by." Violet informed him.

"Eavesdrop." Sunny said, meaning, "something must have happened that you don't want him to hear you talk about."

"I was cleaning the windows," Violet whispered just loud enough for her siblings to hear, "when he came in and started reading the paper. He read something that upset him because he dropped the paper and—"

"And what?" Klaus asked curiously.

"He started to cry." Violet returned as her sibling's eyes went wide, both of them unable to comprehend the fact that Count Olaf had cried in front of her. "And he laughed." She added. "It was very strange. Apparently some people didn't make it out of the hotel like he thought they would. It upset him. I don't know; it was all really bizarre." Violet admitted.

Klaus nodded. "Seeing Count Olaf cry must have been bizarre." He sighed. "Here, let me read the paper. Maybe we can figure out why he was so upset." Klaus said as he took the Daily Punctilio from Violet and unfolded it, beginning to read.

Sunny frowned. "Emotional outburst?" She asked, which meant something like, "who could have died in the hotel fire that he would be moved to tears over, as the Count Olaf we've seen hasn't been a very emotionally broad individual?"

"There's more to Count Olaf than we've seen." Violet returned, frowning at her sister.

Klaus scanned the article a few times, scratching his chin as he read. "According to this, Justice Strauss was the one responsible for setting the fire. We know that isn't true, because we helped Count Olaf do it. This article says that she made it out, but when we left the roof, the fire was already out of control. There wasn't any way that she could've made it down all those floors and escaped."

"So then she must not have made it," Violet finished sadly, "Poor Justice Strauss." She said, looking incredibly guilty.

"There are other names here too of people said to have made it out alive. Mr. Poe is one of them. They also name Vice Principal Nero, Carmelita Spats, Jerome and Esmé Squalor," Klaus went on, "along with the other two Justices, Count Olaf's accomplices."

Sunny made a thoughtful face, looking in between her brother and sister. "Opposite?" She said, meaning something along the lines of, "does this newspaper say the opposite of what is actually the truth?"

Klaus nodded. "Yes. These must be the names of people who didn't make it out." He frowns. "But why would he be upset that any of them died?" asked the middle Baudelaire. "Count Olaf didn't care about any of them, especially Carmelita and Esmé. The only ones that would make sense would be the Man with a Beard but No Hair and the Woman with Hair but No Beard. But he seemed to be genuinely scared of them."

"It had to have been them." Violet says. "He said 'they' when he was speaking. Something must have happened. He looked sad but almost relieved in a way. He said that it was 'over now' and 'time to end this all,' whatever that means."

Frowning, Klaus sighed. "Maybe he means finding the Sugar Bowl."

"Mysterious." Sunny offered, meaning, "each time we think that we've found something out, another bigger mystery unfolds."

Violet and Klaus nodded, sitting in their dusty bedroom and pondering what these recent events could mean, miserably coming up with no answers, as always. The middle Baudelaire focused his thoughts on the unknown connection between Olaf and his accomplices, trying his best to find any reason as to why he was so upset about their deaths. Violet, on the other hand, couldn't stop trying to analyze the count's behavior. Just what had brought him to tears? Why had he seemingly felt so comfortable that he could weep openly in front of her and exactly why he had squeezed her hand? Though the mysteries that had been unraveling in front of the Baudelaire orphans since their parents' death were both frustratingly plentiful and terribly confusing, the mystery of the human psyche was a far bigger mystery, leaving Violet wishing that she had a psychology text bigger than several telephone books to consult.


End file.
